Cleveland Rocks!

I haven't been at our company sanctioned Cleveland hotel in YEARS.

As an FO, I was based here in CLE after our company saw fit to close our sacred STL base. I made a fine home at the Crowne Plaza, and have many wonderful  memories there. I found a family there. I am currently in the process of being transferred there, because while a two hour drive to STL only to commute on Trans States to CLE to reserve is dismal, it is still a fabulous improvement over the 20 minute drive to Columbia, MO to 2 leg it through Memphis to Columbus, OH to sit reserve that I'm currently doing.

Anyway, as I've stated, I haven't been here at our CLE hotel in years. I do remember, however fuzzy, one of the most fun times of my life at this very hotel.

It was the Tuesday before the Thanksgiving Holiday, 2007. I was on a four-day trip with a fantastic crew. We fly to CLE, fly to JAX (Jacksonville, FL), and return to CLE. We were supposed to fly to Providence, RI, but never made it due to the extreme weather. I remember telling the passengers on the taxi out of the JAX airport, "wave bye-bye to Mr. Sunshine, folks.... not much of THAT where you're headed this evening." Sure enough, we get to Cleveland, and there is a blizzard!! We taxi up to the gate, there is a message from crew scheduling - we are canceled until further notice. We are to proceed to our Cleveland hotel and wait for further assignment - who knows when?

As we stroll through the airport on our way to the ground transportation area, we come upon our passengers - gathered around a gate agent as if it was a revival in southern Mississippi. Our flight attendant notices a 16 year old girl traveling alone - face all torn up in tears. "What's wrong?" she asks. The girl responds with, "I'm trying to get to Providence, RI. My flight's been canceled. I don't have any money. I don't know what to do!! I can't get a voucher because I'm a minor!" My flight attendant and I exchange glances, and she says, "We can't just leave her. Should I call my manager of inflight?" I say, "NO!!! Better to ask forgiveness than permission." We take the poor stranded passenger with us. We buy her dinner, she stays in the flight attendant's hotel room for the night. We buy her breakfast. She ends up making a flight home in time for Thanksgiving! It was a holiday miracle! We are still stuck at our Cleveland hotel for another night - with a hotel full of stranded Southwest crews and distressed passengers. A friendly smile and a wink is all it takes to earn a drink courtesy of Southwest Airlines. And the wine flowed like..... well..... wine.

It was a party I barely remember, but will never forget!!

I remember a packed bar full of our crews, Southwest crews, stranded passengers, and hotel staff. I remember having a BLAST, but little else.

God, I love this career.

I am reminded of that special week every time I come here to this special hotel. I can't wait for the stories to come, and the adventures that await!

Milwaukee hotel brews... I mean blues.

This bleeping hotel.

I just somehow magically found my way back to my Milwaukee hotel room, after roaming the halls for more than 20 minutes. I swear, the hotel we stay at here in MKE was designed by none other than David Bowie's character in Labyrinth. It's as if he tired of tormenting young adolescent girls in movies and moved on to tormenting innocent flight crews ambling back from the hotel's pub like the star of an early Tom Waits song. I must have wandered these halls in a circle at least 3 times, looking for the building that holds my humble room. My tried and true technique of hanging the "do not disturb" sign on my door to at least narrow my choices during an alcohol-induced state of confusion was of little use this time. It's a puzzle, and the 3 beers I had should have earned me some kind of handicap, like in bowling or golf.

Nope...... they just made me more handicapped.

Seriously. When I look outside my hotel room window, I see an adjacent building roughly 15 feet away that looks like a group of engineers got high together and thought, "DUUUUUUDE.......... let's put another F-ing building RIGHT THERE, MAN!! HAHA!! That would be totally GROOOOVY!!!! People could like, peep into each other's windows and stuff!" Kind of like when you're really schnockered and think you're the Dos Equis guy - the MOST interesting man in the world..... then when you sober up the next day you find out that you in fact were a total JACKASS. This hotel is a gumbo of afterthoughts, a village with its own zip code thrown together into one steaming pile of multicolored moldy fermentation and creaky floors. Every time I stay here, I see a different kind of mold on the ceiling or a different mystery stain creatively placed somewhere in the room. To be fair, I'm sure the rest of the hotel is excellent. Each one of the 5 buildings connected together via hallway is named - The Presidential, the Executive, The International..... I kept thinking...."Where's the GHETTO?!?" That's where the airline crews stay!

Please don't think I'm complaining. I am, in truth, having a freaking BLAST on this 4-day. AND.... my moldy hotel room at least has a fridge so I can store the rest of my grilled chicken. It's gonna be a total of 10 days on the road for me this time. Poor Sweet Cheeks and Clara the Cat won't remember me when I get home.

My FO comes from a background of corporate. He just made 2nd year pay, which is about a third of what he made at his corporate job. I felt guilty that my in-flight meal today was home-cooked chicken breast (grilled under a brick by yours truly) and spinach drizzled with garlic-infused olive oil and half an avocado. His in-flight meal was a few pieces of bread and some peanut butter with a tortilla chip chaser.

Day 1 of our 4-day had us arriving in Omaha, NE at around 10am, with nothing to do but entertain ourselves until 1600 the NEXT DAY. Oh.... AND there was another crew with the same layover. Needless to say, we went out. We had a Tex-Mex lunch (during happy hour!), went to a casino, and then went back to the hotel for dinner and a nightcap.

It was reminiscent of the "good ole days" in St. Louis. It wasn't like I was at work. It was like a few friends and I took a plane up to the Midwest to hang out and have fun.

THAT'S what this career is all about!!

Today, we spent the day fighting the gusty winds and building storms in Wisconsin. Our last flight of the day (leg 5) from Rhinelander to Milwaukee had us deviating a great deal East, hugging the coast line of Lake Michigan before we were clear of the storms. It made me long for my freight hauling days - instead of flying around the storm, I'd just pick the best spot and fly THROUGH the storm and hit the bar early!! I really miss those days sometimes. Who am I kidding, I miss those days ALL the time.

Oh.... this "high mins" crap is getting old. I don't know if every airline does this, or just mine, but for the first 100 hours of Captain Time for me, I have to fly EVERY leg, and execute EVERY takeoff and landing. I feel so sorry for my poor FO's who are reduced to radio jocks and gear swingers - BORED out of their MINDS. Although, I never minded when I flew with a high mins Capt when I was an FO, because it was like I didn't have to work at all - PLUS, I could flirt with ATC!!! Totaling up my time.... I only have about 75 more hours before I'm off high mins!

Anyway. Time to find some baseball on the tube (Preferably the Cardinals, but I'll watch any team). I've run into a couple of people lately who've asked me how I like being captain. I always answer truthfully, "I love it!" It's like a whole new job. At last, I get to make the calls I want without worrying about carefully watching my words. I don't have to remember how every captain likes certain little things. I get to control the mood of the plane - which is jovial, or at least sarcastic and witty. I finally get to control the things I hated about flying with guys I didn't like, as well as do and say the things that the guys I loved flying with did. Does that make sense? Even though the commute, the schedule, the same complaints that come with working for a regional airline - they are all legitimate and ever-present, I have a renewed sense of gratitude that I am in this profession. I wouldn't trade it for anything!

Yep, I'm in charge now.

All tests passed, training is complete! I am now officially "Captain Willes!" Or "Cap'n D?" Or "Captain Squeaks?" Or "Capt. Squeaky D?"

Or maybe just the Bitch in charge! We'll see what my crews really call me after a 4-day.

The last blog update was written during a very stressful time. I don't remember the last time I was that miserable. It was probably during my initial training. Looking back and comparing the two, I will say that while the initial training was more emotionally taxing, Upgrade was more unpleasant and painful than a simultaneous root canal, hysterectomy, colonoscopy, appendectomy, and surprise amputation of a body part of the surgeon's choosing. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl during upgrade, and I thought it would never be over. I have a new respect for those unfortunate folks who are just above me on the seniority list who went through Upgrade years ago, only to be downgraded to FO a few months later, and then upgraded again. They went through the process TWICE! I'd rather have my toenails removed with a putty knife. Granted, a lot of this stress I placed upon myself because of how much it meant to me to be given this opportunity. It wasn't just about the much-needed raise in pay. It was a new certificate (ATP) and a type rating - just the possession of which opens doors that were closed to me as an FO with just my commercial pilot's certificate. It's another step up the career ladder; one step closer to my version of success. In short, it was kind of a big deal.

Since I was simply making a transition from the right seat of the EMB-145 to the left seat, I was given the "short course." That means a week and a half of ground school, 4 simulator sessions, an oral exam, and a check ride. Followed by 25 hours of IOE (Initial Operating Experience) and a Fed ride (a revenue flight with a check airman acting as my copilot and the FAA in the jumpseat). The whole process started on April the 2nd, and ended with the Fed ride on May the 10th.

The first simulator session was a disaster. Everyone said it would be, but I didn't really believe it would be that bad. I expected my hands to be confused; I didn't expect my eyes to be lost, too. Think about it: my hands have been trained to make certain motions when my mind commands them for the over 5 years I sat in the right seat. All of a sudden, they have opposite duties. Which is bad in itself, but add to that the fact that now I can't freaking FIND ANYTHING with my eyeballs. The screens are in the wrong place. Even stupid stuff like the autopilot and flight director buttons were difficult to find. I found myself glancing at the FO's displays just to set the altitude. What's worse is that I was so paralyzed by the fear of that stupid simulator, I was wound up too tight to do any thinking at all. Couple that with continued self abuse of my mind screaming, "Delia, WTF is wrong with you?? You fly!! This is what we DO! Why are you losing 200 feet in the steep turn, you moron?!?" I walked out of that box holding back tears and frustration because I felt that I didn't belong in ANY airplane, much less a jet that carries 50 trusting people. I thought I'd slipped through the cracks. I thought about quitting and going back to school to do something else.

Then I had some wine. I called my friends, vented on facebook, and wrote to my mom, and prayed. We had the next day off, so I spent the day in my room in front of my cockpit poster, chair flying and slowly going through everything mentally from the setup check to the shutdown check. It took hours.

It worked.

I got progressively better each day. I was able to finally relax in the sim. It's easier to control the thing when you're not shaking! When it came time for the check ride, I walked the long walk to the sim telling myself, "You've got this. You've already earned your ATP and type rating. You just need to step into that box and get them." The check ride itself was a piece of cake. Well, except for the stalls, which were pretty ugly. There was a tense moment after my completion of the stalls when I listened for the beeping of the simulator bridge to lower. When I didn't hear that, I knew I was home free. I kept my head about me, slowing down, doing things in a deliberate manner, planning what comes next. I finished the ride with the most beautiful visual approach to a no-flap landing I've ever done. Of course, upon landing, the entire plane caught fire (not my fault!!!), and I had to execute an emergency evacutaion. I performed the memory items and shut down the plane. There was a beat or two. I turned around to face the examiner and he said, "Congratulations Delia. You passed!"

I exited the simulator in the slow motion manner of a cheesy film. I swear I could hear Freddy Mercury singing, "Weeeeee are the champ-ions....... my fri-end...." Randy (my sim partner and upgrade partner through it all) was coming down the long walkway towards me. I gave him a thumbs up and a huge smile. He hugged me and said, "Congratulations, Captain Willes!" I responded with "Congratulations to you, Captain Crider!!" It was the best day of my life.

The last day of sim is called "LOFT." It's supposed to stand for "Line Oriented Flight Training," and is supposed to be a flight from point A to point B with just a small malfunction. Yeah, a real snoozefest! We had an instructor who knew we had already had 5 years of that already, so he let us play with the airplane a bit. Short field takeoffs, dead-stick landings, that sort of thing. It was a lot of fun, and I felt it was really beneficial, too. At the conclusion, I asked him if he had any advice for us, since he'd spent 30+ years as a captain for Ozark, TWA, and American. He said, "Four things. Take care of your passengers, take care of your crew, take care of yourself, take care of your airplane. In that order. You will never have any trouble if you do those four things."

As for IOE, I had the benefit of flying with 3 seperate check airmen during my experience and learned a lot from each one. I finished up my training with a gal who was sharp as a tack and didn't take crap from anybody! Everyone who has flown with her just loves her. She is a really good teacher and constantly had me thinking with her "what if" questions. She knows the rules, the takes care of her crews, she sticks to her guns. Everything about her exudes confidence.  In short, she's exactly the kind of captain I want to be.

Fed ride day. My Fed ride was also another potential check airman's Fed ride. This means that while I'm going for Captain, my acting first officer is a captain going for Check Airman cert. The FAA observes him as much as he observes me, and in the end gives him the FAA's blessing to go forth and teach. So, it was a big day for both of us! It was a revenue flight from Indianapolis to Chicago. A dear friend of mine, Adam, had just passed his Check Airman ride and knew he was bringing the plane for our ride. He was kind enough to leave the MEL book open so I wouldn't have to stumble around to find the deferred maintenance item. Plus, he gave me a hug and left me a good luck note to "kick ass!" It really meant a lot to me. The flight itself was nothing significant. The weather was perfect. I was nervous, but did ok. The FAA examiner was very cool. He was from Louisiana, how could he not be cool?

When it was over, I hugged the flight attendant, high-fived the newly certified Check Airman, texted Sweet Cheeks, and called my parents. I didn't stop smiling the rest of the day.

Now, I'm on reserve at my new home away from home in Columbus, OH. It appears that Scheduling doesn't need me today, but I already have a trip assigned for tomorrow for a round trip from Columbus to Boston. I'm excited about my job for the first time in years! I spend half my time not believing this has really happened, and the other half praying I don't f**k up! I don't think you're supposed to use the F word when you talk to God; looks like confession time for me again!!

I want to thank each and every one of the people I emailed, called, texted, complained to, cried with, and otherwise leaned on who really believed in me when I didn't believe in myself - especially my Mom and Dad.

Thank you for your continued support and for always being in my corner. I am so happy that now I can go on to reading things for the simple joy of reading that have nothing to do with airplanes!!!

I think I'll start with the Pilot Reserve section of our contract.

Report from training

12 days into Upgrade training, and my mind feels like it's going to explode. I have become intimately familiar with the Airplane Operator's Manual, the company's General Ops Manual, and the airplane's Pilot's Operating Handbook. I can tell you that with as much as I know about the airplane now (which still isn't a lot. It seems like the more I study, the more questions I have), I have NO IDEA how I passed the initial oral exam as a First Officer because back then, I didn't know SQUAT.

During my studies, there are occasions when the light bulb comes on. For example, I have discovered only 2 days ago that the precooler and the primary heat exchanger are not the same thing. Plus, who knew the hydraulic system had a manifold? These things were huge discoveries for me!! Years of memorizing the rote answers to questions in the study guide have finally led to a basic understanding of aircraft systems, yet there are a lot of things I still don't understand. No amount of reading the manuals is going to help, either. I was trying to explain the problem to my friend and only upgrade classmate (yep, that's right. We are a mighty upgrade class of 2) what the problem is. My mind works differently from the dudes who wrote the book. My understanding of words like "solenoid," "manifold," "torque tube," etc. are boxes from crudely drawn schematics. I understand that fluid travels from one box labeled "reservoir," through tubes into a box labeled "manifold," and into somewhere else where it actuates a cylinder-looking thingy labeled "torque tube," which does the thing that we are requesting. I've never actually seen these things, because I'm doing more interesting stuff like drinking wine, cooking, and socializing, while the boys are in the yard drinking beer and trying to take apart and rebuild the lawnmower. It's not my intent to sound sexist, it's just the truth. Yes, I know there are exceptions, and I know several awesome super-hero chicks who are exceptions. Sadly, I am not one of them.

So when the book uses these words to describe the aircraft systems, my mind is only able to generate an abstract understanding of the system they are trying to describe. By the same token, I have no problem understanding the rules and regulations governing pilots. The performance data is a piece of cake, and I'm textbook perfect with the callouts and flying profiles.  I guess everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Let's hope my weaknesses are strong enough to pass and keep myself and everyone else safe.

So far, my classmate (Randy) and I have been through 2 weeks of ground school. Well, 1 week and 2 days of ground school in Indy. The instructors have been top-notch and I have learned a lot. Everyone I've talked to said to go in to Upgrade training ready to take the oral exam, because you won't learn anything. This isn't true. I think that due to our small class size, Randy and I were able to tailor the class to fit our needs, and we both came out of class much more knowledgeable than we went in. It could not have been a more positive experience and I feel extremely lucky that things turned out the way they did!

However, I do have a complaint. In the company's haste to get by God get a class going NOW, they left the scheduling to someone else who didn't do their job. Surprise, surprise. They had us scheduled to do doors and windows training in Louisville on Wednesday the 11th, but neglected to line up an instructor for that date. So, we were rescheduled to do Doors on Friday the 13th, but they also had us scheduled to take our oral exams on Friday the 13 in St. Louis at the same time. Then they decided that it was impossible for us to be in 2 cities at the same time, so they rescheduled the oral again for Monday the 16th. Turns out, the check airmen are all busy, so we've been rescheduled again for next weekend. Of course, no one thought about communicating these new schedules to us until a day or so before the events. I feel like Columbo trying to track down the right people just to get our freaking schedules solidified. As if studying for the damn thing wasn't stressful enough! I think we've been issued the final draft. Oral exam for me will be on Sunday the 22nd, with the Check ride on Monday the 23rd, followed by 2 days off, and a LOFT on the 26th.

I can't wait for all this to be over, so I can read far more interesting stuff that has nothing to do with airplanes and begin bitching about commuting to sit reserve in Columbus!

Back to the books.

Here Comes the Sun - or - my big weekend

Beatles fans know that song to be one of George Harrison's contributions to the world's greatest album known to man - Abbey Road - second in Harrison's awesomeness only to "Something," which, lucky for us, is on the same album. Okay, some of you will argue that it is not the world's greatest album, but you have to admit that it certainly is in the top 10. Anyhow, the story behind that song according to George (also mentioned in Clapton's autobiography), is that the year in which it was written was pretty stressful and wrought with frustrations for George - namely getting arrested for marijuana possession, having his tonsils removed, and temporarily quitting the Beatles. So one day, he decides to scrap all his responsibilities and head out to his good friend Eric Clapton's house. It was such a beautiful day, and it felt so good to be free from responsibility that day, that he walked around Clapton's garden playing one of EC's acoustic guitars, where he ended up writing "Here Comes the Sun." A classic is born.
 
I can remember hearing that song on the am radio - years ago while flying freight - after popping out the other side of a rain shower into the sunny, clear day. I was struck by not only the timing of the song but its message of hope and better things to come. Usually, I heard songs like Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire." I couldn't help but laugh at my morbid interpretation of the lyrics as I was shooting an approach into Kansas City, hearing Cash sing, "I fell in to a burnin' ring of fire... I went down, down, down, and the flames went higher...."

I heard "Here Comes the Sun" again just before Don and I left the house bound for Little Rock during my vacation. That extended weekend turned into a trifecta of Spectacular. First, we went to the Jimmy Buffett concert on March 1st - which always officially ends Winter and begins Spring. The weather in Arkansas was unseasonably warm - in the 80's, and the sun felt so good on my skin. Even on the drive along the winding highway, I could feel my winter funk melting away. There was just something so great about the warmth and listening to Radio Margaritaville. As a born and raised Parrotthead, I know every song Buffett ever wrote or performed. The acoustics at the concert stunk, or maybe it was our seats, but it was still great to watch Jimmy perform. There's a guy who truly loves what he does! He has so much fun at his job, you can't help but smile when you see or hear him play.

A few days to recover led me to the real reason for heading to Little Rock - the half marathon! I'll tell ya.... that half marathon training is what kept me from falling completely off the diet/exercise wagon. I tend to get the winter blues. Although this winter wasn't nearly as bad as last, the blues still came. First comes the desire to drink a lot more. Then, the comfort eating starts. Finally, the lack of motivation to do anything physical sets in. And STAYS. For about 3 months. If not for my obligation to the race, I probably would have become a complete slob, and undone everything I worked so hard for physically all summer.

Race day came March 4th, and I was nervous and excited! The Little Rock marathon/half marathon/10K was sold out at 12,000 runners!! I was in the back of the pack. I think the Kenyans in the front actually finished the marathon before I even made it to the starting line. I waved to my little group of cheerleaders (Dad, his friend Kelli, her daughter Sarah, and My Sweet Cheeks) just before I stepped across the mat that activates the timing device attached to my shoe. Off we go!! The first mile went by in a flash, and I thought, "Hell, this is going to be EASY!"

About mile 3, I came across a band playing "Jambalaya." I give them the rocker sign and keep on running. I passed the 5 hour marathon pace group. The streets are lined with people cheering, banging cowbells, holding signs for their favorite runner (usually someone's mom or dad). Somewhere along the way, I pass the 4:50 marathon pace group. Boy, I'm really hauling ass!! Open the box of raisins I had brought along and eat a handful of them to keep up my energy. Give a raisin-y smile to a photographer who probably thought - "That chick is chewing tobacco during her race?? Well, this is Arkansas!!"

I made sure to high-five every child who held his or her hand out to the runners. I stopped at every water stop and one porta-potty. I gave a fist-pump or a rocker symbol to every live band along the way. I thanked every volunteer. Every time I saw a photographer, I ran extra hard and put on a mean face so they could get a good picture, hoping it didn't make me look constipated. I couldn't believe how many people lined the streets of the course to cheer on the runners. I marveled at their ability to maintain their enthusiasm for hours. I thought, "well crap, they're working harder than I am!"

Mom later asked me if there was a time I wanted to quit. That time came around mile 7. I looked at my GPS watch and thought to myself, "Mile 7?!? That's ALL?!!? F@#K!!!! This was a mistake. I'm never going to make it. Oh my God, there's another hill!" Just then, I came across another band, playing a song I've never heard. I do, however, remember the lyrics they were singing, "She puts the 'HO' in 'Jose Cuervo..." That little laugh and another handful of raisins gave me the strength to keep going. About mile 10, my feet no longer felt like feet, but instead bloody, beaten, toe-less stumps being ground against the pavement. I thought, "just 3 more miles.... come on, 3 miles is just a warmup run! Come on... step step step.... breathe breathe breathe. You can do it!!!"

A lone trumpeter played a jazzy version of "When the Saints Go Marching In." I was sure it was Gabriel playing to alert St. Peter of my arrival at the Pearly Gates. I was so thankful instead to see the sign directing the marathon folks one way, and the half-marathon folks another. I laughed and waved goodbye to the 26.2 milers, "See ya!!! If you need me, I'll be downing ice cream and beer. Have fun with that extra 13 miles."

Mile 12.8 - I saw the finish line. I heard the crowd. I saw the giant clock and heard spectators shout, "keep going! You're almost there!!" For a second, my eyes went blurry, my throat closed, my breath caught, and I got incredibly emotional. I'm really going to do this!!!! I then thought, "I'll get emotional later. Now I need to breathe!" I picked up the pace and could no longer feel my legs or bloody toe-less stumps posing as feet." I crossed the finish line in 2 hours and 20 minutes - 10 minutes faster than my goal!

It was an experience like no other. The volunteers wrapped me in mylar and handed me my finisher's medal as they directed me to the bananas and crackers. I walked around in a daze trying to comprehend what I had just done. As I did my stretches I thought, "That wasn't so hard. I can even do better! Oh, how I want to do another one!!"

So.... Buffett and half-marathon. On to the third "spec" in our trifecta of spectacular.

The night before the race, my dad and his friend Kelli took Don and me out to an Italian restaurant to "Carb load." That's where runners eat a bunch of carbs to give their bodies the energy to run a good race. I don't know much about the science, but I'm always looking for an excuse to eat pasta. I turn off my phone for 2 hours. 2 hours! That's it. When I turned it back on again, my world changed! I see texts from several people - "congrats, Captain Willes!!"

WHAT?!?!? It's not even April Fool's!

Yep, the bid award was finally published. Yours truly was awarded the very last captain slot. I'm the plug. I'm the runt. I'm the absolutely most junior person to get the award. Call me whatever you want, but BY GOD, CALL ME "CAPTAIN!!!"

Today, I spoke with Crew Planning, and my class date is April 2nd. That's not set in stone; they were waiting to hear from a few guys who may or may not take the April 16th class. Given my history with this company, I won't celebrate until I am actually on the line, captaining an aircraft. But it gives me hope. I am humbled and touched by how many people have congratulated me and wished me good luck. I hope I don't let you down. There is a lot to study. No doubt, this will be difficult, but I know I can do it.

My winter blues are gone. I'm back on the diet/exercise wagon, giving running a break (hoping my black toenails on the right foot will heal and that weird shooting-pain sensation will stop in the toes of my left foot). I'm deep into my first week of P90X. We have sprung forward and can look forward to flowers, sunshine, and baseball. I feel like there may be an end to what seemed like nothing but perpetual spinning my wheels regarding my career. At least I have a shot at it, anyway.

"Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces. Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here."

I know this was a long blog entry. Thank you to the ones who made it this far. You're my cheerleaders - always there when it feels like I've come so far, I'm running out of gas, and I still have so far to run. Without my friends and family, there is no way I could make it through the marathon of life.

I hope the sun shines for all of you this Springtime.

Drinkin' Wine, spo dee oh dee, drinkin' wine

This will be my first tipsy blog. As long as it takes me to write these damn things, this very well might turn into my first drunken blog. You've been warned. HAHA!

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!" That is a quote from Dante's Inferno. I am going to print it out the next time I go to the simulator and place it on the simulator door.

I had my annual Proficiency Check a few days ago, abbreviated in the pilot world as "PC." A PC is simply a flight and knowledge test that pilots have to endure in order to remain employed. Here, it's a yearly event for First Officers (copilots), and every 6 months for Captains (well.... the test is every year, but they must do time in the sim every 6 months). Honestly, it's a really good idea, because you'd be surprised how much stuff a person can forget in a year's time if they don't use it. Stuff like the company mandated emergency procedures and callouts, for example. What sucks about it, however, is that it's a jeopardy event - meaning that if I screw up, I could potentially be out of a job. OR, if I "unsat" any items that need to be trained to proficiency in order to keep my job here at Chautauqua Airlines, I must then attempt to explain why I screwed up the missed approach with an engine failure to a potential employer from a REAL airline who may or may not be sympathetic.

I studied for a few weeks, going into the PC feeling like I was ready for the Captain upgrade. However, after a few questions, I realized that I could not build them an airplane like I thought I could, and my confidence was a little shaken.

Hang on......

All right, I'm back. I needed to refill my wine glass. Aaaaannnndd.... the cat was in the kitchen (not the cradle. haha). So, I needed to sing a few bars to her. Today, it was O SOLO GATO...... (instead of O solo mio). Sweet Clara the Cat gets serenaded every time we're both in the kitchen. I'm Italian, so she's Italian by association. Italians are silly.... I digress.... back to my checkride......




We moved from the briefing room to the simulator. The sim is ice cold and smells of sweat, fear, failure, and dreams that have been raped and shat upon. My sim partner goes first and I am simultaneously joyed and dismayed that I have to go last. I make a fine "checklist bitch" and we get through his checkride with no problems at all, but I am worn out. After a short break, it is my turn to be baptized by fire. Specifically, a #2 engine fire. I manage to make it through the checkride with a satisfactory performance, yet I am humbled and angry that I didn't perform as well as I know I could have.

But.... I'm good for another YEAR!!! YEAH BABY!!

I just spent 2 hours playing the piano after YEARS of letting dust collect on it. As my current Facebook status says, " Poor Beethoven will come haunt me in my dreams, Billy Joel will probably sue for property damage, and the cat probably won't come out of hiding until late evening. My right wrist hurts, but my soul feels good! I need to get my piano chops polished up again."

I remember a time, when I was a music major, before I ever THOUGHT about being a pilot....... when the piano was my best friend. I used to break into the music building in college after security closed it, wheel the piano out into the hallway for better acoustics, and hammer away Beethoven sonatas and Rachmaninoff pieces, mixed in with a little Billy Joel. There was no better therapy. The piano got me through uncertainty, heartbreaks, and the stress of not knowing what the future had in store. My soul always felt cleansed and pure after playing the piano. When my fiance dumped me, I used to place his picture on the piano and play until the keys were soaked with tears. Like a friend holding me as I cried, the piano never let me down.

Where the F did THAT memory come from?!?!? Stupid wine, haha!


When I was a tot, having temper tantrums because I hated to practice the piano, Mom used to say, "someday you'll thank me for making you play the piano." She was right!!

Anyhow. There is another captain bid out. Also, we've announced that our Grand Rapids and Milwaukee bases are closing. I swear, this company opens and closes bases like Lady Gaga opens and closes her legs. I can say in all honesty - I am at peace with whatever the results of this bid are. If I upgrade, I will lose my vacation (it's just our company's way) - which I have coming the last week of Feb and the first week of March. The half-marathon I've been training so hard for these past few months is on March 4, and I will be SUPER PISSED if I have to miss it.  But, if they call and want me in class, you'd better believe I will be shit-flippin', flyin' F##K happy to be in class!! After my PC, I was looking forward to reading things that don't concern airplanes at all.

So.... whatever fate has in store, BRING IT!! I have my piano, my Sweet Cheeks, my cat, and my WINE.

Cheers!!

Same frustrations, different day.

Well, the sunshine and roses of my last post didn't last long! haha!

I've at last come to terms with my career's most recent disappointment. We had a bid out for 70+ captain vacancies recently. I'll spare my non-airline friends the details, but the gist of it is this - once again, I didn't make the list.

Oh, but this time I swore I wasn't going to get my hopes up. Not like last time, a year ago, when I just knew I was going to get it. I was studying hard and asking my captain's opinions on everything, putting myself in his place and thinking proactively. When I didn't get that one, I was like the Tasmanian devil in my hotel room, cursing and throwing crap everywhere like a 2-year old. Or, the time before that - 4 years ago - when I actually had a captain class and our crew planning guy called me 3 days prior all apologetic, "Hey... um, I see you haven't been notified. See, we forgot to ask someone ahead of you on the seniority list if they wanted in the class and of course they do. But don't worry, we'll put you in the next one!!" Then the economy went down the crapper, we furloughed and downgraded. I was like a kicked puppy then. I guess the rosy side to that one is that I would have been downgraded a few months later anyway if I had actually made it through upgrade.

Nope, this time I wasn't going to get my hopes up. Then I heard a rumor prior to the final award that I had received a captain spot. A few days later, I heard that was no longer the case. The official memo came out and - Not my time again. I should have known.

Ugh. How many times does Charlie Brown have to fall on his ass before he tells Lucy to go F*** herself with that damned football??

I'm studying for my annual Proficiency Check that's scheduled for Feb 6th. For you non-airline people, that means I have to go through a lengthy test that consists of an oral exam over systems and regulations, followed by a few hours in the simulator training for every possible emergency. These PCs are a good idea, because you'd be surprised how much you can forget in a year! I'm an anxious test-taker as it is, but "the box" is especially hard for me to confront because my initial sim experience was so traumatic.

It was 5 years ago, and I had never flown anything bigger than a light twin engine aircraft when I got this job. I'd never flown with an autopilot, and you can forget all that fufu pretty glass-cockpit crap. I came from flying freight into every kind of weather you can imagine in a ratty Cessna held together with happy thoughts and duct tape. I could fly the hell out of that plane, sing while I did it, and flirt with every Air Traffic Controller in the Midwest!

When it came time to begin simulator training for my initial here at this job, the first thing my sim instructor did when he met me was ask me if I was a screamer.
"I'm sorry?"
"You know.... do you scream and yell during the lesson?  I hate screamers," he said with a wink, trying to be charming. He had broccoli in his teeth and his breath smelled like a troll had taken a shit and died in his mouth. While I ignored the obvious innuendo, he assured me he wasn't a screaming instructor. However, as soon as he turned the sim on, he commenced the screaming. I sat there and took it while flying like it was my first time ever behind the controls of anything because I was so overwhelmed by everything. My sim partner flew like he was sprung from the loins of Chuck Yeager and born in the tail cone of the plane, but he'd sit there and argue with the instructor. Finally, on day 3 when all of our peers were about a full lesson ahead of us in their training, it all came to a head. We were on fire, had just secured an engine, and were running through the single-engine landing checklist when sim partner and instructor got in a pissing match about setting the speeds.

Suddenly, the instructor shouted at the top of his lungs, "PUT THE F***ING LANDING GEAR DOWN!! I'M ENDING THE LESSON, AND YOU TWO ARE GOING TO GET A NEW INSTRUCTOR! YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT AT THIS AIRLINE, MUCH LESS IN THIS BUSINESS!!!!"

He stopped the sim, stormed off, and I saw my career swirling down a giant toilet, taking with it every dollar I had borrowed or been given to pursue it.

We eventually got a new instructor who started us off at square one and somehow between the 3 of us, we managed to get both my partner and myself through the checkride. It was really the hardest thing I had ever done.

Remembering that I fought so hard and went through so much to get where I am now helps to quiet the voice that tells me to quit, to give up, to go back to school for yet another career change. My more positive friends assure me that just the sheer mathematics of attrition at our company equal an upgrade in the near future. Aside from that, the mathematics of the geezers finally retiring from the big airlines is supposed to create a "pilot shortage." I've heard these statements so many times over the last 5 years that I find it hard to believe in the Hope and Good Times Ahead they promise. There are bad times everywhere, and if you meditate on every one of them, it'll make you bitter and hopeless. Perhaps that's why so many pilots are alcoholics? People say, "don't give up. It's gonna happen."

Isn't that what the Cubs' fans say every year? Haha!!

A good friend of mine (and I am blessed with so many good friends) said that perhaps life is waiting for you to be content with what you have before it offers you something else. I can see that. I feel guilty for wanting so much. I promise I don't take for granted that I am in fact doing something I love for a (very small) living, that I work with the best people in the world, have parents who love me and are proud of me, and come home to such a happy life with Don and the cat. Truth be told, I would have been disappointed if I was awarded a captain class that made me scrub the plans to run my very first Half Marathon (which I've spent the last 2 months training for!) and the Jimmy Buffett concert just prior to that.

So, maybe it's not time to slit my career's wrists with the crash axe and punch out. I just wanted some grain of hope that life will improve, that my career will progress, that I can stop living paycheck to paycheck. Someday, it will. In the meantime, I'll enjoy getting the prime pick of the best uncommutable 4-day trips that Cleveland has to offer. Which is kind of like getting to pick the best turd in the catbox for your crap sandwich. Oooh!! That one has some string in it from when kitty tore up the Christmas presents!! I will enjoy pushing my body to new limits as I continue to train for my Half-Marathon. I will find the hottest coconut bra and grass skirt to wear to Buffett's concert and be happy, continuing life as I've known it these past 5 years.

And, I will always look forward to the next time I pop through an overcast layer on a snowy day to feel the welcome sunshine on my skin. Keep a-goin', friends.